


Minion Murder

by springbok7



Series: An Assortment of Teas and Biscuits [18]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: #TeamRasa, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:08:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/pseuds/springbok7
Summary: “If any of you utter one more stupid, nonsensical sentence or even word, I am going to kill someone.”Instant silence greeted his words.  But he wasn’t finished.“Trust me.  I have a license to kill as well.  Don’t think for one second I’ll be charged for a fucking thing if I commit a murder right here, right now.  I could and would walk away a free man.”





	Minion Murder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsuyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyu/gifts), [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).



> Prompt by the amazing [Tsuyu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyu). Wonderful art provided by the fabulous [Boffin1710](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710) , which spawned not one but two bunnies. The other bunny -- that sprang from somewhere deep in my brain -- can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728061).
> 
> Because angst is a gift that needs to be shared! ♥ Go, Team Angst! ♥
> 
> Unbeta-ed. All errors and typos are mine. Please feel free to let me know if you spot any and/or feel there should be additional tags. I welcome constructive criticism, but neither support or feed trolls.
> 
>    
>  _I do not own these characters. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from this piece of fan-fiction._

 

The mission had been nigh on fucked seven ways from Sunday almost from before Double O Seven had left bloody HQ.

Alec managed to spill the remaining three-quarters of the Fire Road Pinot Noir James had brought back from his last mission in New Zealand ... into the open suitcase James had just finished packing his clothing into.

James had been ... less than amused.  Alec still had bruises on his shoulder and ribcage from the retaliation.  And a sizeable bill for suit cleaning.

_ And  _ he’d been exiled to the guest bedroom for the majority of the night before James left, because the younger agent had been so brassed off.  

Nine bespoke suits.   _ Nine _ !

It was not hard to understand his fury.

Then they’d awoken to discover Q’s grey Singapura, Henrietta Lang, had used James’ equally grey derby boots -- the lovely, calf leather Cheaneys Alec had dropped almost 300 quid on last winter -- as a receptacle for the contents of her stomach.

He’d been forced to use the olive suede derbys instead.  Equally expensive and comfortable, and certainly very serviceable and sturdy boots, but they still looked like  _ boots _ .  He’d been going for suave and sophisticated, and grey went with bloody  _ everything _ .  

And, as if  _ that  _ hadn’t been enough, there had been that clusterfuck -- there was no other word for it -- that had taken place when Double O Seven finally showed up for his flight.

Q was still contemplating hacking the carrier’s servers and ‘adjusting’ things ... or maybe coding a virus and releasing it into the stock market systems to nibble away until he owned a majority stake in the bloody company, so that he could then revamp the thing from top to bottom.

Who in fuck thought it appropriate to bump James from business class into a seat at the back of the aircraft, in the middle of a five-seat row with two screaming toddlers in front and a howling infant behind, on a nine-hour flight, for which the aeroplane was completely booked?

James didn’t dislike children exactly, but he had a fully formed, almost pathological aversion to creatures under the age at which one could hold intelligent conversation with them.  At which one could request that they be silent or at least quieter. Puppies. Kittens. Infants. Toddlers. The umbrella of aversion covered them all, and he and his sensitive ears avoided the lot.

The icing on the transportational cake had been when, after finally deplaning, Bond discovered that his luggage -- containing more than a few less-than-legal items of technology -- had been mistagged and placed on the wrong aeroplane, and wouldn’t be delivered back to him until it could be flown over from the alternate airport.  A wait of approximately four hours. It would almost have been faster to hire a car and let Bond retrieve the bags himself, except that the Quartermaster rather feared for the lives of anyone who might share the tarmac with the irate agent.

The man had fumed as he waited at the airport for the intercity flight to arrive with his bag.  An immediate inspection proved the suitcase had been untampered with, but that fact did little to dampen James’ ire.

The cabbie who delivered him to his destination hotel had been white-knuckled for the duration of the fare.  Q monitored from the delightful on-board camera installed for ‘dispute resolution.’ The cabbie had survived Double O Seven, and Q ensured a sizeable tip appeared in the poor man’s account.

The miasma emanating from him must have been powerful indeed.

The mission itself had gone downhill from there.

The team of three minions assigned to gathering the intel for the mission -- on the most critical day of the mission -- had disregarded the unwritten rule of mission support, and thought a lunch date at the new restaurant four blocks away would be a grand idea. All three of them.  Together.

The same restaurant that was later mysteriously closed for “sanitary investigation” after the trio of minions began exhibiting signs of gastrointestinal distress.  

Food poisoning.  

Apparently it is advisable to keep your prawns actually  _ in  _ the refrigerated unit provided for that purpose.

Unfortunately, the absence of all three -- how stupid could they be?!  Really, they’d be lucky if all the Quartermaster did was dock their wages -- meant the rest of the branch was left scrambling to fill in the gaps, since the idiotic trio had been just as shoddy on their documentation of the intel as they’d been on their research of eating establishment.

The hastily re-collected intel had had some issues.  Notably one ‘short-cut’ had ended up with the agent stood under a tree for thirty minutes while the minions attempted to locate the person with whom he was supposed to make contact.

It was later reported -- by an even more irate Bond -- that the tree under which they had had him wait had been home to a healthy patch of poison ivy.

Q’s ears were still aching from the stream of vitriol spewed.  He didn’t even have anyone he could blame, there weren’t any CCTV cameras near enough the small park for the ivy to have been visible.  Who the hell expected that stuff in the middle of a city, anyway?

Bond’s contact had then been arrested as they were making their way -- separately, thankfully -- into the train station.  It was a case of mistaken identity, but the delay would have cost them their narrow window of opportunity, so Bond had been forced to go it alone.

Meanwhile, apparently common sense had abandoned the techies and the adminnies  _ and  _ the HRers left and right, because in the middle of running the clusterfuck of a mission he’d had no less than six of them -- one technie, one HRer, and four,  _ four _ ! admin interns -- interrupt him with actual, honest to God, physical paperwork that needed his actual, honest to God, physical signature.  With a pen!

In the middle of running a fucking mission!

Why in Hell they weren’t going to R he had not idea, but it was yet another thing he’d have to deal with once this op was over.

Double O Seven had finally made it to the site of the mission, managed to infiltrate the establishment without the contact, and get a bead on the head of the organisation ...

Only to have the explosives he’d been ordered to plant around the building detonate a full four minutes ahead of schedule.

The minion or minions responsible for problematic detonators were going to have some problems of their own.

On top of  _ that _ , someone must have spiked the coffee supply because no sooner had the explosives started going off, then the minions behind him started a rather loud discussion about the possible causes, while asking  _ him  _ his opinion of this theory or that one.

While he was trying to get Bond the fuck  _ out  _ of the exploding building.

Q was so angry with the whole bloody fuckery of the situation he was almost shaking with it.

Seriously, murder!  Murder would be happening if even one more person approached him with anything.  If any of his minions -- or God forbid those fucknuggets in Admin or in HR -- uttered even one more word to him.  They’d be dead. He’d do it and have not one single regret.

Well, maybe the mess, but nothing else!

The staticking connection with James crackled again, as the agent tried to give him an updated position.  He still wasn’t out of the building, which started to slowly collapse from the damage done by the explosions, and Q was no longer entirely sure  _ where  _ in the building he was.  The explosions had taken out most of the electronics as well as the electrical lines.  As they had been designed to do. But no electricity meant no cameras.

He waited, but heard nothing more from the agent.  Just crackling, hissing, spitting static.

His grip on the workstation top forced the blood from his fingers.  Knuckles whitened as he waited for any sign that Double O Seven had made it out of there.

That James was still alive.

He didn’t know how long he stood there.  And then a minion piped up suggesting they break the connection and send in a clean up crew.

“Q ...” he heard R approaching him, and in the blink of an eye he had a knife in his hand and the blade at the woman’s throat.

“If any of you utter one more stupid, nonsensical sentence or even word, I am going to kill someone.”

Instant silence greeted his words.  But he wasn’t finished.

“Trust me.  I have a license to kill as well.  Don’t think for one second I’ll be charged for a fucking thing if I commit a murder right here, right now.  I could and would walk away a free man.”

He thought he heard someone scoff from the back of the room.

“You don’t believe me?!”  A trickle of red welled from the side of R’s neck.

“How the fuck do you think I’m able to drop entire buildings on people?”  A feeling of intense satisfaction as he saw some of them flinch.

“Do you see me having a crisis of conscious about  _ that _ ? What the fuck is  _ wrong  _ with you?  Now step away, back the  _ fuck  _ off, and leave me  _ alone _ !”

The knife that had been pressed to R’s neck was whipped away, his hold flipped, and before anyone could react, the blade was quivered in the wood of the door frame of the main branch doors.

No one had ever seen the Quartermaster so angry, so blindingly furious, and the fact that he so casually tossed that knife spoke to a frighteningly proficient ability with knife throwing.

No one -- no minion and certainly none of the rest of Six once the minions started letting their friends in other departments know what had happened -- wanted to test their luck to see if the man in charge of Q-branch was lying or not.

It wasn’t worth it.

Three hours and forty-seven minutes, Eve showed up to an almost empty branch with chocolate coffee ice cream and an enormous box of cheap wine.  There was a second and third box on the other side of the door, in reserve.

The few minions that were left in the branch had no clue how she managed it, but manage it she did, and coaxed the furious, grieving, guilt-stricken Quartermaster into the sanctity of his office, locked the door, and proceeded to get them both very, very drunk.

 

~~~ FIN ~~~

 

* * *

 

Also, have some shoe porn! You know you want it!

 

The vomit receptacles:

 

And the substitutes:

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are awesome but comments are love! Please let me know what you thought of this ♥


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